Distractions
by TheLightIsMine
Summary: In 'Imperial Commando: 501st', when Darman first calls home, Ordo sounds incredibly annoyed at the interruption. Why is he so irritable? This is why. At least, a far as I'm concerned. Besany/Ordo, slight smut, strong T.


_"Darman waited._  
_Eventually, he heard a pop of static and a voice he recognised._  
_"Dar, that had better be you."_  
_"Ordo? Did I wake you up?"_  
_"Not exactly. Where are you?"_

- 'Imperial Commando: 501st_' by Karen Traviss_

_What was Ordo doing, I ask myself, that made him so annoyed at being interrupted?_

_*minds spirals into gutter*_

_*evil laugh*_

_And this is what spawns. Enjoy._

* * *

**Distractions**

"You're wearing my fatigues again."

It was a casual observation, easily ignored. Besany set down the brush and turned from the mirror. "My hair's becoming crimped from wearing braids all the time."

He padded up behind her to inspect for himself. The golden strands slipped over his fingertips as he felt the kinks in it, and she closed her eyes while his hand stroked the soft contours. The braids had indeed crimped her hair; he didn't see her point.

"It's nice," he said, wrapping the golden strands around his fingers. "But if you're in my fatigues, what am I supposed to wear to bed?"

Besany hid a blush with a smile. He didn't see what was so amusing.

"You'll think of something, I'm sure," she said with a kind of nonchalance Ordo didn't like. He frowned.

"Am I supposed to wear something of yours?"

She stood up, her hair slipping out of his fingers as she moved. She faced him, fingers idly twirling a strand of hair, looking at him with an expectant expression for a moment before turning away. Ordo blinked as something rose within him. But then he gave it up and went to look through his drawers, searching for another shirt to wear to bed.

"Ordo."

Her voice was low, and he realised she'd been watching him from where she was sat on the bed.

He swallowed. "What?"

"Come here."

He paused for a fraction, unsure of what she wanted, but sure of what she _meant_. Tension coiled low in his gut, the first blossoming of excitement. He obliged, moving to stand in front of her, and the slight smile she wore grew. As she reached out to touch his arm a thrill went down his spine, his heart – and other parts of his anatomy - swelling with realisation at her next words.

"What if you didn't wear a shirt tonight?"

She stood, hands skimming up his arms to clasp at the back of his neck. The action pulled her flush against him, and the feel of her warmth under his clothes made him swallow hard.

"…then what would I wear?"

From where his fingers rested on her waist he felt her sigh, ribcage expanding and falling again. One of the strands of crimped hair was brushing against her collarbone, so to give his twitching fingers something to do he brushed it away, aware of her heartbeat pulsing under her skin as he tucked it behind her ear. Her weight shifted, rolling forwards onto the balls of her feet in an almost imperceptible movement.

She trailed a finger down the muscular plane of his chest. He found himself staring as she bit her lower lip and her mouth stretched into a coy smile. "Nothing?"

Her suggestion left him speechless. Heat crept up his neck and flushed his face as a similar reaction took hold below his waist, a familiar ache that reminded him how long it had been since _last time_. He closed his eyes for a moment, savouring what little was left of his self-control before – and he knew he would lose it – he was lost to her. As all the thoughts in his mind pooled low in his body, he managed to form a sentence through the fog.

"If I'm not going to be wearing anything," he growled, leaning in to close the gap between them, "Then neither are you."

She made an appreciative murmur that reverberated in her chest, which he felt vibrate against his, and then he gave in to the pressure in his chest and kissed her.

He tried to keep it light at first, but when her hands wound in his hair and pulled him closer he lost the last shred of his self-control. His hands found their way under her shirt – his shirt - her skin hot and soft under his touch. He left a trail of goose bumps in his wake as he stroked and kneaded her sides, pulling her against him with a growl.

She whimpered as his hands sought higher ground, softer flesh, and he broke away from her mouth to kiss the junction of her jaw and neck, feeling her pulse under his lips. He grazed the skin with his teeth; her hands tightened in his hair to the point of pain, but he felt nothing but a surge of excitement as her nails bit into his scalp.

_Too long, indeed._

He lifted her into the air and set her down on the bed, positioning himself above her to glance over her flushed skin for a moment. The sight of her hair spread out on the pillow and her swollen lips parted in anticipation made the heat in his lower body throb insistently. He swore under his breath and pressed a kiss to those lips again, harder this time, making her body arch against his. Then he moved his hands to the hem of her shirt and lifted.

_Bleep._

He froze, eyes locking on the comlink on the bedside table. Besany's hands were under his shirt – he didn't remember how long they'd been there - she felt him tense and followed his eye line. They paused, holding their breath.

_Bleep._

This time Ordo swore aloud, pushing himself off the bed with a groan and reaching for the comlink.

"S'Dar," he exclaimed in shock. An ache of disappointment added to the already relentless throbbing inside. He struggled for a moment between answering and leaving it for someone else to get, but as the comlink continued to dance with urgency in his hand, it became clear no one else was awake enough yet. He glanced at Besany.

"Answer it." Her voice mirrored his disappointment. He gave her an apologetic look and kissed her again, wistfully. He lingered, her hands drawing him back in, but the comlink _bleeped_ and flashed at him a few more times and, knowing how important Dar's return was, he couldn't put off answering for much longer.

"Guess you'll have to get your fatigues off me later," she grinned, a knowing glint in her eye. He suppressed a groan.

"I'll be back," he muttered, adjusting himself as he left the room in search of the others.

He opened the link. "Dar, that had better be you."

"Ordo? Did I wake you up?"

Ordo gave a wry smile, looking back at his bedroom door in annoyance.

'_Guess you'll have to get your fatigues off me later.'_

He grunted.

"Not exactly…"

**Finis**


End file.
